


Silver

by morganpixie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Because of course he is, Ficlet, M/M, aziraphale has angel markings, crowley is pining, literally it's only like 2000 words, rated teen only for some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganpixie/pseuds/morganpixie
Summary: Crowley sees Aziraphale's angel markings for the first time and is a bit at a loss for words
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 144





	Silver

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like nine months ago, and it was the first real creative work that I wrote in about two years. I was and still am trying to regain a proper writing style, so this may be a bit choppy, but I liked how it came out nine months ago, and I still like it now. Hope you enjoy, even though it is so incredibly short!

The first time Crowley saw them was in 1793.

He and Aziraphale had indeed gone out to lunch after the debacle in the Bastille. Aziraphale had finally gotten his much desired crepes, and had graciously kept his word and treated Crowley to thank him for the rescue. Crowley didn’t typically make a habit of eating, so if he actually wanted Aziraphale to pay him back for helping him, it wouldn’t have come in the form of food. But, if he was being honest, getting to spend some downtime with the angel he had been trying for thousands of years to get closer to was reward enough.

Together they sat, and they talked, and Crowley watched him from across the table. He made a point to study every part of him, from his fluffy white-blond curls, to the smile lines that adorned the sides of his eyes whenever he started telling Crowley about a new book he had started to read or to gush about how unbelievably delectable the crepes were. It had been quite some time since they had last seen each other, so Aziraphale had a lot of conversation material, mostly consisting of the trials and tribulations of opening a bookshop, and of maintaining a bookshop while simultaneously trying to keep possible customers from buying anything. He went on and on, and Crowley listened to his every word, staring intently in his eyes the entire time, thankful more than ever for his dark sunglasses. He had stopped trying long ago to stop himself from thinking about Aziraphale like this, had stopped trying to convince himself he didn’t think he was the most beautiful being he had ever laid eyes on, had stopped trying to pretend he hadn’t been in love with him for years. How many years exactly, he didn’t know, and to be frank, he really didn’t care.

He loved this sweet, beautiful, hedonistic angel, and he wasn’t about to spend time splitting hairs trying to piece together the exact moment his feelings had shifted from platonic to romantic.

All that mattered was Aziraphale.

Crowley soaked up every moment he got to spend with Aziraphale that afternoon, and he was more than a bit disheartened when Aziraphale announced it was getting late and it was time for him to head back to his bookshop. Crowley, hoping to draw out their encounter for just a bit longer, offered to walk him home. They strolled through the streets of London together, side by side, still chatting away about the smallest details of their most recent blessings and temptations, as well as the everyday annoyances that come with human life, many of which were admittedly invented by Crowley. Sometimes their hands brushed past each other as they walked, and Crowley could feel his face heat up whenever it happened. Aziraphale would pull his hand away slightly and apologize, and then keep going on about whatever he was talking about, as though the casual contact meant nothing to him. It probably didn’t, after all. Crowley knew he was making a bigger deal of it than it was, but he couldn’t help getting more than a bit flustered and pink in the cheeks when it happened.

It was dark when they finally made it back to Aziraphale’s bookshop. It was cold, and Crowley didn’t do very well in the cold, being a snake and all, so he was starting to shiver a bit. Aziraphale, of course, noticed and invited Crowley in for some tea to warm up before going their separate ways.

Ever the valiant angel, Crowley thought as he took a seat on the dusty sofa in the back of Aziraphale’s shop. The angel disappeared to grab the kettle to heat the tea, grumbling about how ridiculous his reprimand from Heaven was, and how he shouldn’t be punished for performing miracles. Crowley couldn’t help but laugh a bit at that.

“You’re only fussy because you have to heat the tea the human way.”

“Well, can you truly blame me?” Aziraphale gave a small huff and threw his hands in the air slightly as he left the room.

Adorable, Crowley mused as he settled on the sofa. He was very well aware that he could still use a miracle to heat the water, but the longer it took for the water to boil, the longer he had an excuse to stay with Aziraphale. He knew it was a bit devious, but he was a demon, after all. Being devious was part of his job description.

Several minutes passed before Crowley heard a teacup break.

“Oh dear!” Aziraphale yelled.

“Angel? You alright?” Crowley stood from the couch and began to make his way into the kitchen.

“Ah yes, I’m quite alright, I just dropped a cup. See, this is why I hate doing this by hand sometimes!”

Crowley sauntered into the kitchen and could feel his heart leap into his throat.

Aziraphale had not only dropped a teacup, he had dropped a teacup that was full of tea. He had dropped it on the counter, and it had both shattered and sprayed tea all over Aziraphale’s shirt. At least, that’s what Crowley assumed happened. He couldn’t really tell since Aziraphale had already taken his shirt off.

Crowley felt his face start to burn as he stared. He was aware of how hard and how long he was staring, and of his mouth hanging slightly open, but in that moment, he really didn’t care that he probably looked like an idiot. And he wasn’t staring simply because Aziraphale had taken his shirt off, but because it was the first time Crowley had ever seen what was actually under his shirt.

His angel markings.

They were streams of what looked like pulsing silver that ran along his sides and down his back. They twisted and turned, and covered much of the skin around his spine and his lower back. They seemed to glow faintly in the dim light of the kitchen, and almost appeared as though they were breathing, ever so slightly shifting up and down with each beat of Aziraphale’s heart. They were absolutely mesmerizing, and Crowley, no matter how hard he tried, could not tear his eyes away from their beauty.

Aziraphale was slightly turned, enough that Crowley could still have a clear look at the markings on his back, but the angel could see him standing slack-jawed in the doorway. Neither of them moved for quite some time, and after a while, the tension in the air began to make Aziraphale squirm a bit. He was, after all, in a bit of a compromising position. He didn’t stand shirtless in front of Crowley everyday, so he was more than a little bit embarrassed that Crowley had come into the kitchen instead of just waiting out front.

He finally broke the silence when he couldn’t take it anymore. “Um...Crowley? Are you alright?” His voice shook a bit as he said the words, and Crowley immediately snapped his mouth closed. Crowley felt his face heat up even more when he realized just how long he had been staring, and knew Aziraphale was getting the wrong idea.

“Yes, I”m, uh, fi-, great, perfect, thank you, angel.” The words stumbled sloppily out of his mouth as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but not even being able to fool himself. “I was just...well I mean, I’ve never seen, um, y’know…” Crowley trailed off, unsure if he should finish his thought.

Thankfully, Aziraphale finished it for him. “Oh! The markings! Yes, of course, I suppose they would be something of a surprise, wouldn’t they?” He ran his hand down his side, feeling the gleaming silver lines with his fingertips. Crowley felt a shiver run through his body at the gesture.

“You demons have your creatures on your heads, or tattooed on your face, in your case, and we angels have our markings. I know, they’re really nothing special, just a bit of silver, really. But, I suppose seeing them for the first time, you might think they’re-”

“Beautiful.” The word was out of Crowley’s mouth before he could stop it. He felt his eyes widen and the red of his cheeks deepen, once again thankful for his dark glasses, and especially thankful for the dim lighting of the room they were standing in. The room wasn’t dark enough to obscure the look on Aziraphale’s face at the word, however. It wasn’t so much a look of shock, but it was definitely filled with surprise. Crowley could swear he could see a bit of blush creeping up along the angel’s neck as well.

“I, uh, was going to say odd, or something to that effect, but...I suppose they are quite nice to look at.”

Aziraphale was definitely avoiding Crowley’s gaze now.

Shit! Crowley cursed at himself silently. How could I have possibly made this even more awkward than it already is?

“What do they feel like?”

The words were, again, tumbling out of his mouth without warning. They were enough to make Aziraphale snap his gaze back up to meet Crowley’s. Now the look on his face was more akin to shock.

What the fuck is wrong with you?! Crowley put his hand over his mouth after that, unable to believe he had basically just allowed himself to ask if he could feel Aziraphale’s markings. He had tried so hard for so long not to give off too many signals indicating his feelings. Now, all of that work had essentially been thrown out the window.

“Um…” Aziraphale gaped and tried to find the words.

“Angel, I’m, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“You can feel them, if you like.”

Any remaining thought in Crowley’s head dropped out of it like brick off a cliff. He felt his stomach lurch, and had the overwhelming desire to pinch himself to see if he had, by chance, dreamt this whole encounter.

Aziraphale had just offered to let him feel his markings. To let him touch him. He could barely handle the accidental brushing of their hands together when they walked over here, nevermind this.

I shouldn’t…

Crowley thought he had said this out loud, so he was incredibly surprised when he felt himself walking forward and reaching out his hand. Aziraphale simply stood in place, turning slightly to show the markings on his back. Slowly, Crowley maneuvered his trembling hand in place, and reached forward to place his fingertips on a silver strip that ran down next to Aziraphale’s spine. Carefully, he pressed his hand down and ran it down the length of the marking, feeling the smoothness of the curve. They were warm, and they did pulse a bit under his touch. Aziraphale trembled slightly under Crowley’s touch, but he didn’t move away. He just let Crowley feel the markings, running his hands down most of the markings along the length of his back. Crowely once again felt glued to the spot, unable to stop his hand from tracing up and down the markings over and over again.

“Beautiful.”

This time, he didn’t try to stop the word from coming out. He truly couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sight in front of him, more intimately aware than ever before that Aziraphale really is an angel.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale answered softly. “I have always been quite fond of them, if I’m being honest.”

He finally moved away from Crowley’s touch. Aziraphale turned and looked him in the eye, smiling, trying desperately not to make the moment awkward. They had had enough awkward for the day.

“Well, now that that’s done, I’m going to go ahead and put on a new shirt. The tea is all done if you would like to pour yourself a cup.”

Aziraphale put a gentle hand on Crowley’s arm and then swept out of the room, a bit faster than usual. Crowley simply stood there, heart beating fast, trying desperately to catch his breath.

“I meant you, angel. You’re the one that’s beautiful,” he whispered to an empty room. He took a deep breath and turned to the table.

Maybe I can tell him one day, he thought as he poured both himself and Aziraphale a cup of tea.


End file.
